No better time than the present to commemorate an almost full circle, with a preferred, much less morose and dark ending from the start, although my body didn’t get that memo just yet and still falters somewhat, preventing any euphoria nature’s glorious awakening would have otherwise provoked, but filling all of our senses with an air associated with rehabilitation and a hopeful outlook.
Over the years I have became quite the expert in generously downplaying physical discomfort into a minor hurdle even I would not fear to tackle, especially coming out of a winter copiously filled with too much wine and starchy food, now taking its toll. Jumping on the bandwagon of Spring usually brings about enough energy to get my ball rolling again and wil change my eternal list of things to do – but tomorrow, into an indisputable must do today copy.
It seems this year’s early Spring has caught me by surprise and transitioning into a more productive version of myself suddenly requires a switch into this superpower I know I possess but must have mistakingly misplaced. Cause and effect intensify and aggravate each other, we learned from experience, so before this becomes a dreaded vicious circle, we decided to cut some corners and outsource some of the maintenance work, or in other words, the responsibility for what starts when no longer rests solely upon ourselves and we can hide behind the contractor’s back, blaming his timemanagement when things drag on. Obviously there’s still enough daily chores to torment ourselves with, so any relief is short-lived but luscious nonetheless.
I should have known that nature would intervene as well, making sure no wounded soul is left behind, recalibrating into grey skies, an ice-cold breeze and nightly frost returning. I might have flagrantly failed this tidal testdrive, there’s plenty of time to prepare before the real deal takes off.
With winter’s reinstallment these aches and pains feel like remnants of neglect and however real and impending, they pale in comparison to this circular beauty, compressed in that one prematurely sprouted ranunculus, engendering me with the knowledge there’s always something beguiling to build on.